


All Dressed Up

by justawhacko



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Catfishing, M/M, cross dressing, rating will probably change with future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justawhacko/pseuds/justawhacko
Summary: After the murder of Jeff Hope, Jim Moriarty finds himself working on a side project.
Relationships: Jim Moriarty/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally publishing this after months of planning! Expect updates to be random! :)  
> Also, thank you Baseline_harmony for beta reading this! <3

Jim couldn’t stop thinking about Jeff Hope’s murder.  


He didn’t care for the body of the imbecile taxi driver, though the screams he produced when Sherlock dug his foot into his wound were delicious, the excitement from such a scene was temporary.  


Against Hope’s knowledge, Jim had set up cameras around the premises. There wasn’t a real excuse for this except that Jim had wanted to see the thrill on Sherlock’s face. Jim craved to see how he would play his game.  


But… a new flavor was suddenly added to the mix, something Jim hadn’t expected when he gained access to the footage and watched it alone. As Hope fell to the ground, the loud blasphemous gunshot rang out. Jim remembered how feverish he was when he quickly searched for the camera angle of where the gunshot came from. And there he was, in all his stoic toy soldier glory. His grainy face stern, his hand clenched and still on the trigger.  


John Watson wasn’t in the picture before all of this, he wasn’t part of the fun. He was a nobody as far as Jim knew, yet the frame of his face plagued his mind. Even the most important meetings and phone calls couldn’t distract Jim.  


Jim rewinded physically and literally when he would get home, relaxing and replaying John’s solo scene over and over. John’s body didn’t flinch or stagger, even when the gunshot was a cacophony of destruction. When he pulled the trigger, Jim would laugh, trying his best to keep his lips shut so as not to rudely let his dinner fall from his mouth.  


Sometimes Jim wondered if the flavors on his tongue would imprint in his mind, so that anytime he would hear a gunshot or if he were to see John’s face… he’d taste orange chicken. Noodles. Steak. Dark chocolate. Caviar. Salmon.  


Jim wondered if Dr. Watson would smell as good as he looked.  


One quick search led Jim to a treasure trove of fun, searching the doctor’s name took him straight to his personal blog. He seemed like a depressed man who loved writing stories, that was Jim’s interpretation atleast.  


He read John’s “A Study in Pink” over and over, the ending was his favorite part. He loved how John briefed over Hope getting shot, acting like he wasn’t the one with blood on his hands. Like a liar.  
Jim bit his thumb _hard_. He liked liars.  


That’d been all the research Jim could stomach doing for now, something in the back of his mind told him that if he were to do anything more that it’d spoil all the fun. He’d never felt that way about someone. For example, with Sherlock he became obsessed immediately and took it upon himself to find every scrap of information he could. This time though, something was off. Sickeningly off.  


But one curious day Jim decided to go against his animal instincts and look further into Dr. Watson. He excitedly discovered the man’s Facebook account, and Jim's large eyes were fixated on the profile picture. Or… lack of. It was obvious to him that from John’s blog that he wasn’t very tech savvy and probably couldn’t bother himself in setting up a profile picture.  


“Maybe it’s about time I get in touch with social media,” Jim spoke to no one but himself, his words echoing in his empty and lifeless apartment.  


After about thirty minutes of searching, he found his little notebook titled ‘Live, Laugh, Love’, cracking it open and skimming over the pages. Each page had a fake identity on it, each one he used for a different situation. Who should he be to catch the sweet eye of John? All of these stillborns were waiting in anticipation to be used for a new life. After a few moments of searching, he found one of the few female names he hadn’t used for anything.  


Valerie McBride.  


She’s perfect, absolutely stunning. Jim had to try her on right away.  


He typed in the profile information carefully, slowly thinking of what sort of life Valerie had led in the past thirty three years.  


She was an extroverted girl who had left Ireland to persuade her writing career in London. Sadly he had no pictures that felt well suited for her, so he kept to uploading a picture of a dog he once met in the states with the caption:  


**Love my dog-nephew! :)**  


He bit his thumb in irritation once he realized he had to make a few more accounts to make her seem like she had a real social life. Damn it!  


To make the days pass by, Jim would plan on what he’d post next. One day he bought a muffin just to take a picture and caption it:  


**Did I make you drool? ;p**  


Jim sometimes wished someone would appreciate the amount of effort he put into his experiments. Atleast the muffin, which he ate hesistantly, seemed like a good payoff for his hard work.  


After a week of building up Valerie’s character, posting pretty flowers and all that basic crap, he began to feel confident enough to send a friend request. After a few hours, John had allowed the request. This made Jim absolutely joyful, but he still felt nervous about sending his first message. He had the personality, the life, the mannerisms all put down on paper… yet as he sat in front of his computer, he could feel sickness squirm and coagulate within him. A normal person would’ve called this feeling ‘nerves’.  


“Hey…” He spoke outloud whilst he slowly typed, each key was like a hot coal.

 **Hey! Just wanted to message you and say that I am a huge fan of your blog, hope you’re having a wonderful day!**  


**P.S.**  


**I love your newest post about Sherlock, can’t wait for more!**

John was having a cuppa when he heard a ping noise coming from his open Facebook window. He honestly didn’t check on it much, but the sudden attention after five minutes of checking really seemed odd. He opened it up to find his first fan message, which honestly made him a bit giddy. He slowly began to type a message back, wondering if this conversation would go anywhere interesting.  


A few days had pass since John and ‘Valerie’ had began talking. John would often find their conversations would flow easily, they obviously had very good chemistry. The odd part was that she would often start conversations at very strange hours, either a little too late or a little too early. Though he liked talking to her, he couldn’t help but find himself cautious to dive into more personal matters. 

**I couldn’t help but wonder, you don’t have any pictures of yourself on your account. Why is that?**

John looked out the window, seeing that sunlight was almost completely gone from the sky. He probably wouldn’t get a response from her anytime soon. He went to close his laptop before hearing a ‘ping’. Quickly, he opened it back up to see her message. 

**Says the one with no profile picture!**

He smiled slightly and rolled his eyes, trying to think of what to say next.  


“Why’re you smiling?” He heard Sherlock peep out, making John look over his computer towards Sherlock’s chair.  


“Is it really your business?”  
“You never smile while on your computer,” Sherlock pointed out.  


John sighed, glancing out the window before responding to Sherlock. “I’ve been… talking to this girl. She’s really interesting, her name's Valerie.”  


Sherlock seemed like he wanted to say more, but glanced back down at his book with a small ‘hmm’. John took this as an opportunity to respond to Valerie.

**Maybe so, but yours is, quite literally, a picture of a tree. Now, if you were to prove that you are indeed a young sapling, I would be pleasantly surprised.**

John couldn’t help but smile at his own banter. 

**Well, if you can believe it, I’m actually really shy… I take pictures of myself sometimes but then get too nervous to post them.**

John was actually a bit surprised by this, his mind starting to wonder what Valerie’s face may look like. The only thing his mind could come up with was a jumbled mess of facial features. He decided to reassure her, not wanting to embarrass her anymore than he probably did. 

**Well, I think you’re a lovely woman.**


	2. Chapter 2

**What’re you doing today? :)**

“Shopping? Today?”  


“Only if you’re not busy fucking the spirits out of The Queen, yes. We can look at shoes, clothes, etc…” Jim’s voice trailed off slowly as he waited for Irene’s reply. When he was met with silence, he continued to insist. “It’s important, I don’t want to go alone.”  


“I don’t have anything better to do.”  


“I’ll meet you at yours, then. Ciao.” Jim snapped his phone closed, shoving it into his coat pocket. He took a glance into his hall mirror, swiping his tongue over his teeth and putting on his sunglasses. Irene’s apartment was only a twenty minute walk, so he felt no need to call a cab. Besides, it left him alone with his thoughts and the wonderfully dull scenery of London.  


“What do you even want from the shopping centre?” Irene asked, still buttoning up her coat since Jim hadn’t waited for her to even slip it on before they began walking. She smiled up at him, trying to cure his serious expression. “Is there some fancy limited edition suit?” She took a hair band from her wrist and began fixing her only partly dried hair into a braid. “Are we going to commit a crime or two? I’d be upset if we’re committing crimes and you didn’t even let me get dolled up.”  


“I’ll point him out when we get there,” Jim said, the use of pronouns made Irene even more curious.  


Jim wrinkled his nose as they entered the shopping centre, having to suck the inside of his cheek to ignore his nausea. He hated the smell of society, and nothing made the sick stink more obvious than the brain dead, heavenly white, shopping centres. No complaints toppled out from him though, because he knew the putrid toxicity was only obvious to people like himself.  


Jim led Irene into an H&M, grabbing her hand gently as he wove her through the isles. She raised her brows, letting him do what he needed to prove whatever point he was trying to make. Suddenly they stopped, and Jim squeezed her hand as he leaned towards her ear.  


“Over there,” he whispered, his breath excited and hot against the skin of her neck. “He’s looking at shoes. John Watson…”  


“Yes… what about him? He seems lonely.”  


“He’s Sherlock’s flatmate,” he began explaining what he’d been doing so far to dig information from John, causing Irene to giggle softly.  


“Lovely plan, just don’t get too attached.” He smiled and giggled with her, but inside his mouth the fantastical flavour of sweet buttercream turned into vomit.  


As the days passed, Jim and John’s conversations seemed to grow shorter. It barely worried him though, he had plenty to do with Sherlock to keep him busy.

After having Shan killed, Jim passed out in his bed, his brain heavy and swirling like a broth. When he awoke, he cracked his neck and slipped out of his sweaty sheets, slowly walking to his laptop and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He cracked open his computer and squinted at the bright light, seeing that it was four AM. He wondered what John was up to. 

**I’m so bored haha, are you awake?**

John woke at nine AM, groaning softly and cracking his jaw. His body felt sore, and he wanted to sleep forever but he knew that he should be getting up by now. He got up and unplugged his computer, which was resting on his dresser. Opening it up and logging in, he could see that he’d gotten a message from Valerie. Classic Valerie, being such an early bird. 

**I had quite the night, it’s a long story. I’m sure I’ll post it on my blog. Either way, it was crazy long and I’m still so exhausted. I went on a date with that girl from work, Sarah, and it ended up being a disaster. Well, actually, it ended up alright in the end. Sorry, didn’t mean to type out a whole paragraph. How’s your morning going?**

Jim didn’t see the message until he got home from a meeting at six PM, the word date made his intestines oddly twist. He gave a short reply before searching on John’s account to try and find out who Sarah was, quickly finding her page. Glancing over her photos, he could feel his own psychological grip loosen on John. This was… troubling. 

“Jim, it’s odd for you to contact me more than once a month.” Irene added a tease in her tone after picking up the call. Jim quickly interrupted her, seemingly unphased by her jokes.  


“Hello darling! Could I come over?” Irene was caught off guard by the question, checking the clock on her wall to see that it was eight AM. Something felt odd, he’d wanted to see her only about… three days ago? What else did he need?  


“Sure Jim, do you want me to make some-”  


“Excellent, we’ll need your camera.” Jim interrupted before swiftly hanging up. Irene sat in her bed, clutching her phone, realizing she didn’t even know when Jim was coming over.  


At noon, Irene heard a knock. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and opened up the door, feeling a warmth in her chest when she was met with Jim’s small smile. “You must forgive the mess, I normally don’t have guests over.” He stepped in, glancing around her small living room before shrugging.  


“Not much worse than my place,” he said with disregard.  


“So…” Irene sat down on her couch, crossing one leg over the other before continuing. “What does The Powerful Moriarty need?”  


With her question, Jim slowly made his way to the couch and sat down next to Irene. He scanned her calm expression and let his jaw slack open a touch, as if the words would pour out of him like a pitcher with water. Jim slid his hand on her thigh, rubbing his thumb against her soft skin. There were no harsh calluses on his hands, reminding Irene of a woman. He smiled softly, leaning in to her ear to whisper:  


_“I. need. you.”_  


Irene's eyes widened, her hand slowly going over his to squeeze it. She turned her face, letting the tips of their noses touch, and their lips hover at a distance. Though, this intimate staring didn't last long before she grinned, letting her true and tumultuous laughter echo through her apartment. “Be serious!” She begged, slapping at his hand, which recoiled back to his side. He smirked and undertoned her laughter with his own giggling.  


“Seriously though, I need you to get in some of your cutest outfits and take some pictures. Basic things will do. Skirts, sweaters, etc…”  


Irene gawked before knitting her brows in confusion. “What for?”  


“I need pictures to post for Valerie, I need her to come alive!” Irene rolled her eyes at his statement, crossing her arms.  


“So that you can make your little boyfriend hard?” She asked. Jim acted like the words didn’t touch his ears, but she saw his hand twitch against his knee.  


“You’re only partly correct… I just don’t want to lose him. He’s dating a real woman, and I think Valerie’s lack of physical form is driving him away from keeping any sort of interesting connection with me.” Jim stared into Irene’s eyes, trying to portray how intense and serious he felt. “Support me on this,” he almost, _emphasis_ on almost, begged.  


She kept her arms folded, thinking of her answer before coolly expressing to him her slight disinterest in his, honestly, creepy hobby. “I’ll help, but I think you should be the star of the show.”  


His whiny demeanor dropped to a quick, irritated expression. “What?”  


“I’ll help with the cameras and the cute little outfits, and you sit there and look pretty!” She smiled as if she was going to burst into laughter again, especially because Jim had the most murderous look on his face.  


“Irene, that is insulting and degrading to my masculinity.” He stubbornly stated. Irene shook her head, not ready to back down from the argument.  


“Think about it, if you were to use me, John could recognize me on the street. That’d be just a large, bloody mess. Now, if you were to shave a little, dress up, and let me edit some of the photos… Well, John wouldn’t come across you cross dressing in public, would he?” She sat there with a smile, watching Jim process and digest what Irene was serving. He hesitantly opened his mouth only to shut it back up. “Would tea help you think-”  


“I’ll do it,” he interrupted her, looking uninteresting in the topic, yet his large eyes were brighter than usual.  


“Perfect! You’ll look so cute, I promise!” She helped him up, oddly not surprised at his sudden confidence.  


When Jim had a goal, nothing could get in the way of it. 

“I think I’m satisfied with these,” Jim stated, walking over to Irene and showing her the photos he’d taken on her digital camera. She cooed, looking over the mirror selfies he’d taken of him in a skirt and thigh highs.  


“You’re literally such a darling,” Irene hummed, taking the camera from him.  


“Well, let’s hope your editing skills are enough to make the ‘darling’ factor believable,” he gently took the wig off, staring at the soft hair.  


Irene rolled her eyes, looking slightly offended under her smile. “If you would stop being such a smart ass for a second, maybe you’d remember I’ve taken classes on editing AND literally have to edit my photos all the time. Your delicate image is safe in my hands,” he seemed slightly embarrassed, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her scorning or the skirt. When he didn’t answer her, she tried to tease a reply out of him. “Your face looks weird shaved.”  


“I know,” he chirped, still fascinated by her black wig. “How do you get such realistic wigs?”  


“It’s real hair, I pay a lot for it too.” Jim looked up, making eye contact with her. The two smiled a devilish smile, as if they knew what they were doing was too fun to be moral. 

**Here’s your lovely photos. I felt proud of the woman you grew into before my eyes.**  


**XO**

Jim smiled at the photos attached to her message, feeling genuinely impressed by the results. He knew that only good things would come from this.


End file.
